Slammed In The Butt By The Prehistoric Megalodon Shark Amid Accusations Of Jumping Over Him - (Classic Tingler Revisited)

greetings buckaroos and welcome to another edition of classic tinglers revisited today wanted to take a moment and talk about my way trottin down this timeline as ARTIST AND WRITER, and to think back on ways tingleverse has grown and changed. recent book name of POUNDED BY THE REALIZATION THAT CHUCK TINGLE’S EROTIC WORKS ARE A SINGULAR PIECE OF ART THAT SKEWERS CONSERVATIVE FEARS OF MORAL DECAY BY REPURPOSING THEM AS THE PROMISE OF A SEX-POSITIVE UTOPIA touched on this subject and also got me thinking on it more.

when chuck looks back on my trot i am proud of many things (if i can give myself a pat on the back or a consensual pat on the butt while asking first if it is okay). what i am VERY PROUD of is that my way was and is very unique, and even though i had jokes poked my direction every dang day even by buds who liked my way i did not stop the trot. this is because philosophy of chuck is seen as absurd to many others, but to me it is very plain and straightforward: any consenting buds can kiss and pound (or not kiss and pound) any other consenting bud. this is valid way, whether they are a tree or a handsome car or a t-rex lawyer or a bigfoot sommelier. i think some folks say this out loud but they do not REALLY believe it, but this is something chuck believes deep in my soul.

there are buds who saw what chuck was doing and ACCUSED CHUCK of being in bad faith, and now that time has gone by i have realized something: they have only told on themselves because THEY were seeing my point in bad faith. i have always believed my trot from the pit of my bones (whether or not reverse twins were trying to steal them). they said ‘i dont think chuck is funny anymore just same joke over and over’ to which i say ‘well i am not making joke’.

anyway, as i trot into the future with DEVILS IN THE REARVIEW DUST chuck wanted to share this classic story about what happens when others say you have JUMPED THE SHARK. please enjoy SLAMMED IN THE BUTT BY THE PREHISTORIC MEGALODON SHARK AMID ACCUSATIONS OF JUMPING OVER HIM. now lets trot into the future waving a flag of love LETS GO BUCKAROOS

After Morn Mince has a little too much chocolate milk at dinner, he suddenly finds himself waking up with a splitting headache and no recollection of what happened the night before. Unfortunately, the last place he remembers heading was towards the waterfront, and the daily news has reports of an unknown man repeatedly jumping over a prehistoric Megalodon shark in the bay (which was funny at first, but now the jump is getting old).

Suddenly a wanted man, Morn heads down to talk to the ancient Carcharodon Megalodon himself, a handsome brain surgeon sea beast named Perks Yono. At first, Morn is simply trying to avoid the standard shark jumping punishment of cultural exile, but soon enough him and Dr. Yono begin to realize that what defines a jump is in the eye, and butt, of the beholder. Of course, all of this culminates in a hardcore anal pounding that will shake you to your very core.

This erotic tale is 4,300 words of sizzling human on gay Carcharodon Megalodon brain surgeon action, including anal, blowjobs, cream pies, rough sex, shark jumping and prehistoric sea creature love.

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SLAMMED IN THE BUTT BY THE PREHISTORIC MEGALODON SHARK AMID ACCUSATIONS OF JUMPING OVER HIM

By Chuck Tingle

A haven’t talked with Cort in ages, and it’s certainly good to see his face against as we stare at one another across the table in this fancy, bustling restaurant on the waterfront, but after all this time I can’t help but be amazed by how little this guy has changed. Don’t get me wrong, Cort is a true bud and was always there for me back in college whenever I needed a shoulder to cry on or a friend to kick back with, but the sad truth of the matter is that Cort can be a real bummer.

“So you don’t like any new shows at all?” I ask. “Not even Buttworld?”

Cort shakes his head and then shrugs. “I mean, TV ain’t as good as it used to be.”

I stare at him blankly, hardly believing my ears. “I think it’s pretty clear that TV has gotten better over time. We’re basically in the golden age.”

Cort leans back into his chair and shrugs reluctantly. “I don’t know, I guess so.”

I quickly grab the attention of a waiter walking by. “Excuse me, I’m going to need more chocolate milks please,” I tell him exasperated.

The waiter nods and then walks away to add this to our order.

“Am I driving you to drink?” questions Cort with a laugh.

I smirk a little, but decline to answer. I’ve already had three cups of milk tonight and I’m definitely feeling a buzz, but if I’m going to stomach Cort’s negativity then I feel like a few more drinks are in order. I can handle it.

“So what about books?” I question, “Are you reading anything good lately.”

Cort grimaces. “I mean, nobody’s doing anything special with their writing are they? When’s the last time you read like… a really, really good book?”

I should be shocked by my friends dire take on the publishing industry, but this is pretty much the answer I expected out of Cort.

My order of two additional chocolate milks arrives and I take a long sip, savoring the cool, sweet beverage as it rushes down my throat and illuminates my senses even more than before. Now flooded with liquid courage, I find myself driven to confront my friend’s bad attitude head on.

“Alright, what’s the deal, man?” I demand to know. “We’re sitting here in this beautiful restaurant, looking out over the bay, eating an amazing meal, and you’ve still gotta be negative!”

Cort looks shocked and a little offended by my statement, something that I wasn’t expecting. “I’m not negative,” counters Cort. “I’m just realistic. We can’t all be like you and just blindly believe that everything is great. Things are getting worse. Love is not real.”

I almost choke on the chocolate milk that I’m sipping and struggle to collect myself. “What?” I stammer. “Now you’re definitely full of it. Love is real.”

“Love is not real,” Cort repeats. “You think that love is just some kind of physical force that can protect you from the harsh truths of the world? If you swim out in that cold bay right now, is love going to protect you and keep you warm just because you believe in it?”

In a moment of frustration I down the rest of my chocolate milk with one enormous gulp, slamming the cup onto the table and standing up abruptly. I’m sufficiently intoxicated now, but I still manage to throw down some cash on the table before turning and stumbling for the door.

“Where are you going?” Cort stammers, chasing after me.

“To prove love is real,” I tell him. “I’m going for a swim!”

I burst out through the doors of the restaurant and immediately start stumbling towards the waterfront, chocolate milk surging through my system.

Pain; throbbing pain. I feel as though I’ve been hit by a truck, and yet somehow the exact location of my physical body escapes me. I can hear talking in the background, but the words don’t make any sense, droning on and on in a language that sounds only vaguely similar to my own. I try desperately to focus on the sounds, but they continue to evade me thanks to the splitting headache that clouds my thoughts with a potent ache.

Eventually, however, the words begin to make sense, stringing together into sentence fragments and then eventually entire paragraphs. I begin to recognize the difference between up and down, the location of my being in this seemingly endless black space.

“Police still do not have a suspect, but several eye witness reports have stated that the man was in his mid twenties to early thirties, with short dark hair and wearing a leather jacket,” the voice announces.

My eyes fly open as the events of last night come flooding back to me, everything up until the point that I took off belligerently stumbling towards the waterfront. I must have blacked out after that fifth chocolate milk, and who knows what happened next.

I can see now that I’m lying sprawled out on the couch in my living room, the television set before me glowing with an overwhelming brightness. Based on the light that streams through a nearby window, it’s sometime in the mid afternoon.

I sit up on the couch, holding my head in my hands as I struggle to collect myself.

On television, one of the witnesses is now shown; a stout man with a long curled mustache. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,” the man says angrily. “We all love that handsome prehistoric shark that lives in the bay, and this man, this awful man, just decided to jump right over it. He had a jet ski and at first he was just riding around in circles, and that was pretty funny, I actually liked that part, but jumping the shark was just too much.”

“And what do you think of the man on the jet ski now?” asks a reporter off camera.

“Now I think he’s pretty dumb. I think he should go to jail for what he’s done, jumping that handsome Carcharodon Megalodon like that. That ancient shark measuring up to fifty nine feet in length never hurt nobody!”

The television flashes back at a scene of two anchors sitting at their news desk side-by-side. Behind them is a picture of an utterly enormous prehistoric shark who is smiling at the camera and waving.

“Police are asking that if you have any information on the perpetrator of this terribly disrespectful jet skit jump, dial the number at the bottom of the screen,” one of the anchors says stoically.

The other anchor nods as well, glancing over at her partner with grave concern. “You know I thought it was funny at first, but it’s just the same jump over and over again!”

A pang of fear suddenly strikes me deep, hit hard by the realization that the man they’re looking for is very likely me. Could I have really been trying to prove love so hard that I jumped the shark?

It’s not possible, I assure myself. They must be talking about someone else.

The second that I think this, however, I reach down and pat my shirt to realize that it’s still damp from the night before. My skin feels salty and I can pick up on the faint smell of ocean water wafting off of me.

“Oh no,” I say to myself aloud. “Oh no, oh no.”

I jump up from my place on the couch and rush over to my laptop on the nearby table, quickly hopping online and typing a frantic Bing search.

What is the punishment for jumping sharks?I ask, then slap the enter key.

The results are immediate. The punishment for jumping sharks, prehistoric or otherwise, is complete and utter exile from all civilization, banished to a life of wandering meaninglessly through the desert wasteland.

I can feel the panic that swells within me rushing to a terrifying boil, just about ready to spill over as I grip the edge of the table before me. I remind myself to breathe deep, to focus on things that are in my control.

“What do I do?” I ask myself aloud. “What can I do to fix this?”

I suddenly realize that there is only one person I can talk to now, only one piece to the puzzle that can actually do anything to change the inevitable outcome I am suddenly hurtling towards. I need to talk to that Carcharodon Megalodon and apologize.

I consider washing up but then quickly remember I’ll probably just be jumping back in the water within an hour’s time, so instead I pull on a large, oversized hoody and cover my eyes with a pair of dark sunglasses. I can’t risk anyone recognizing me down at the marina before I get a chance to tell this handsome prehistoric beast my side of the story.

Soon enough, I’m headed out the door and running down the driveway with the hope that my car is sitting out here somewhere, and quickly learning that it isn’t. I was irresponsible enough to jump a jet ski over an enormous ancient shark species, but not irresponsible enough to drive home five milks deep, and while I’m somewhat proud of myself, I can’t help but be disappointed that I’m in for a long bus ride.

After a short wait, I finally board and find the bus to be almost entirely empty. I keep to myself and try not to make eye contact with anyone until we reach the marina so that I can finally disembark, my hood up and my head down.

I make my way over to one of the many boat rental services and manage to procure a small fishing boat and some scuba gear without much hassle, and although it costs way more than I’m happy to be parting with, it’s a small price to pay to save myself from a lifetime of exile.

Finally, at long last, I find myself on the water, speeding out into the bay with the wind in my hair and the sun shining down warmly across my skin. I’m not exactly sure where to find this notorious Carcharodon Megalodon, but I figure that if I swim around for a bit I’ll be able to spot him down there. After all, he is longer than the bus I rode in on.

Once I’ve just about reached the dead center of the bay I stop my boat’s motor and begin to drift. It’s calm out here, the soft ocean sway causing the anxiety of the day to melt away from my mind, leaving me as wonderfully clear as the bright blue sky above me.

Suddenly, the boat rocks violently from side to side. I grab tightly onto the edge in a frantic attempt to steady myself, nearly toppling over but somehow managing to hang on. In the water next to me, a massive Megalodon head has emerged, staring at me with his enormous black eyes that shine like dark hubcaps.

“Are you the ambulance boat?” the prehistoric shark asks, gnashing his rows of seemingly endless, razor-sharp teeth.

“What?” I question, not even sure where to begin.

“The ambulance boat,” the monstrous sea beast repeats. “I’m meeting one here for a drop off. They’ve got a patient onboard.”

“You’re a doctor?” I suddenly question.

The Megalodon nods. “Brain surgeon.”

The ancient shark pulls a cellphone out of the water with his massive fin and dials a number, then places it against the side of his head. He hesitates for a moment, and then speaks loudly into the phone. “Yes, I’m just wondering what the status is for that surgery today. I’m up here at the surface but I haven’t seen the patient anywhere. Oh no, that boat was just some other guy. Oh… okay… yep… so he rescheduled then? Understood.” The shark suddenly smiles and lets out a hearty laugh. “Yeah, I saw it on the news, too. I don’t think I’m pressing charges, just some kids messing around. Alright… yep… bye.”

The words of this enormous creature flood me with a great sense of relief. This is already going much better than I thought.

“Welp, I better go tell my nurse sharks,” the Carcharodon Megalodon explains. He starts to disappear down into the ocean depths once again but I yell out to stop him.

“Wait!” I cry.

The Jurassic creature stops abruptly.

“I need to talk to you about something,” I admit. “I think I was the one that jumped over you last night.”

The ancient monster’s eyes go wide with recognition, then confusion. He shakes his head back and forth in the water. “I don’t think so, I got a pretty good look at the guy who jumped me on that jet ski, and it certainly wasn’t you.”

“It wasn’t?” I stammer.

“Nope,” the Megalodon offers. “You’ve got the same leather jacket thing going on, but this guy was a lot cooler. He kept saying Aye!”

I shake my head. “Yeah, that doesn’t really sound like me. But if that’s the case then why am I all wet?”

The prehistoric shark looks me up and down. “Well, you do look kinda familiar. I think I saw you swimming up there above me, shouting about proving love or something like that. You were wasted.”

“I just dove in the water with all my clothes on?” I question.

“No pants,” the Carcharodon Megalodon replies. “I guess I’d have to see you without them to be sure it was you.”

I hesitate for a moment, not quite sure what to do with myself as I stand here before the massive grinning face of this incredible beast. He watches me intently, and for the first time I notice something powerful and erotic flickering behind his eyes.

“I feel like I should know your name before I take off my pants off in front of you,” I tell the Megalodon.

“Dr. Yono,” offers the beast. “Perks Yono.”

“I’m Morn Mince,” I tell him.

We stand here in silence for a minute longer, then I finally reach down and unbuckle my belt, slipping my pants to my ankles.

“You were totally bottomless,” Dr. Yono continues. “I’m gonna have to see that dick.”

There is no question now that the coaxing words of this handsome prehistoric shark have a highly sexual tension lurking just below the surface, and I quickly realize that, for some reason, I don’t really mind. In fact, the longer our chance meeting continues, to more I recognize that I’m hopelessly attracted to this ancient sea creature surgeon.

I slip my underwear down and step out of them, not at all hiding the fact that I’ve now swollen to a half chubs.

“The guy swimming above me was totally stiff,” Dr. Yono explains. “I think it was you swimming up there last night but… I’m still not sure.”

I’m trembling with desire now, unable to calm myself in the presence of this incredible beast. “Want to give me a hand?” I question.

The Carcharodon Megalodon smiles. “I’ll see what I can do. Why don’t you throw on that scuba mask and get in here?”

Without hesitation I strip off my jacket and tank top, then hoist the scuba tank onto my back and place the mask over my face.

I climb up over the side of the boat and then drop into the cool water below. It feels incredible washing across my skin, soothing away any of the limited nervous tension that I might have had left.

Now below the surface, I can finally get a glimpse of Dr. Yono’s muscular body, my eyes transfixed on this toned physique that spends its days tragically hidden beneath the waves.

The prehistoric shark swims over me and wraps his fin around my cock, his gray skin much softer than I would’ve expected for such a typically rough species. He immediately gets to work pulsing his hand up and down across the length of my shaft.

“Oh my fucking god,” I groan, the words floating out of me in a cascade of bubbles that briskly make their way to the surface.

The prehistoric shark strokes me like this for a good while, paying close attention to the rhythm of my hips as I push back against him. With his other fin, Dr. Yono cradles my balls playfully, enthusiastically working my shaft as diligently as possible.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” the Carcharodon Megalodon coos.

Perks Yono’s question is not an easy one, as my desire to receive a blowjob from this handsome creature is only matched by my apprehension for his razor sharp teeth. Still, this monster of the deep has done nothing to betray my trust so far, and I feel as though I’m a pretty good judge of character. I’ve come this far already; why not give in to these powerful homoerotic desires that consume me so completely?

I nod frantically. “Do it,” I say, the words cascading out in another eruption of bubbles.

The next thing I know, Dr. Yono is opening wide and taking my cock between his lips, slowly moving his head up and down across the length of my shaft. I let out a long, satisfied groan, throwing my head back and reeling from the ancient sharks incredible blowjob skills.

Overwhelmed with aching lust, I reach behind the good doctor’s head and pull him up against me, plunging my cock as far as I can into the creatures waiting mouth.

It feels amazing, and Dr. Yono is loving every second of it, savoring the way that this small swimming man has taken control of such an enormous best. I hold the Megalodon here for a while, and when I finely release, something very clear and distinct has changed about the doctor. There had always been something flirtatious behind Dr. Yono’s grin, but our current erotic encounter has kicked things into high gear.

Seizing my chance, I dive deep and take off swimming towards Dr. Yono’s utterly enormous rod. It takes a while to get there, but eventually I see his massive member coming towards me in the darkness of the ocean. When I finally reach it, I wrap my hand around Yono’s girthy dick, beating him off with lustful gusto.

“Fuck yeah, stroke that ancient apex predator surgeon cock,” moans Dr. Yono, pumping his hips in time with my hand. I can tell that he is already aching for more, praying that I’ll take things to the next level. Fortunately for the handsome Megalodon, that’s exactly what I do.

Because of the scuba mask, I’m unable to service this enormous sea beast orally, but with a sudden burst of lustful adrenaline I find myself rotating in the water, turning so that my bare ass is pressed up against Dr. Yono’s enormous cock. I tease the ancient monster like this for a while, rubbing my butt up and down across his shaft and then finally aligning the head of his colossal rod with my tightly puckered hole.

I can feel Dr. Yono testing the tension of my anal seal, pushing the head of his shaft ever so slightly against my taut hole until finally plunging inward with a single, solid thrust.

I let out a started yelp, not fully prepared to take on the substantial enormity of this handsome beast. His girthy rod stretches me to an extreme that I’d never thought possible, completely maxed out and feeling as though I could burst at any moment.

As the enormous prehistoric shark begins to pump in and out of me, however, the dull ache slowly begins to change. What began as an overwhelming discomfort has now been supplemented with a distinct feeling of pleasurable warmth. The sensation starts at the pit of my stomach and then begins to creep its way out across my arms and legs, filling me up until, eventually, all that I feel is this blissed out wash of emotion.

Dr. Yono has picked up speed now, slamming me from behind in a steady rhythm. I can hear the sea monster’s moans and groans cascading out through the water, rumbling through my body and off into the darkness.

In this moment, I finally feel at peace with the situation that brought me here in the first place. I don’t care whether or not I jumped, or swam, over Dr. Yono, because honestly there are much more important things to think about, much more important feelings to be shared. As my handsome prehistoric lover pounds away at my butthole, I am completely overwhelmed by love, not just for him, but for the great opportunity I’ve been given to live and love in the first place.

I am more certain than ever that my friend Cort is wrong, and that love is real.

Even though I’ve only known this ancient shark doctor for a short time, I suddenly realize that this lust between us is so much more. I love Dr. Yono, fins and all.

I reach down between my legs and begin to beat myself off in time with the Carcharodon Megalodon’s ferocious rams, immediately recognizing that I’m seconds away from cumming harder than I ever have in my life.

“I’m gonna blow!” I cry out, my eyes rolling back into my head as I hurtle towards a powerful orgasm.

The second that Dr. Yono hears this he stops, immediately cutting my impending orgasm down to nothing. I let out an aching groan of disappointment.

“I was so close,” I tell the sea beast.

“I know,” Dr. Yono tells me, a deep concern and empathy in his voice. “You just… you just…” The prehistoric shark is stammering now, at a loss for words. “I’ve never met someone like you. You mean a lot to me now, and if you’re gonna cum, I want you to experience something truly amazing.”

“Like what?” I question.

Dr. Yono cracks a mischievous smile. “Like this.”

Suddenly, the enormous creature has taken me into his fins and is shooting forward through the water, slicing across the ocean at an incredible speed. The next thing I know, Dr. Yono is lifting up out of the deep blue, his body cresting over the waves at a higher and higher angle until eventually he is more than halfway out. I’m above the waves now, too, the sea breeze whipping wildly against my face.

Behind me, I can feel Dr. Yono’s dick pressing up against the now reamed edge of my butthole yet again. This time he wastes no energy teasing, slamming forward in a firm and blissful anal pound. I let out a wild cry that echoes across the bay, the salty spray of the water blasting out to either side of us.

“Fuck me!” I scream, repeating the words over and over again. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

Dr. Yono picks up speed, not just with the furious pounds up my butthole, but by accelerating with his forward momentum, as well. We are whizzing past nearby boats, the various crews waving excitedly as the celebrity Megalodon surgeon and his new lover put on a show.

I can feel the searing heat of prostate orgasm pulsing through me, coming on fast in stronger and stronger surges. Suddenly, everything hits me all at once.

My entire body heaves with spasms of blissful sensation, every muscle pulling taut and then contracting hard in a quake of ecstasy while jizz erupts for the head of my cock. The cum sprays out in front of me and then comes flying backwards to splatter in a pearly pattern across my chest.

I suddenly notice that, a few yards before us, a massive ramp has been positioned, the structure looming large out of the waves. My prehistoric shark lover and me careen towards the jump and hit it at full speed, suddenly flying through the air.

Seconds later I can feel Dr. Yono push deep inside of my butthole and hold, shaking violently as he expels a hot load of his own. The pumps of semen fill me completely and then spill out from the edges of my butthole, raining down into the waves far below.

“It love cumming up your ass while we jump as prehistoric shark and handsome man!” Dr. Yono cries.

After a shockingly long amount of hang time we finally crash back down into the ocean, slowing to a stop as the water settles around us.

“That was amazing,” I pant, trying to collect myself as Dr. Yono removes his cock from my butthole.

“Yeah, it was,” the ancient Jurassic shark says with a smile. He’s eyeing me up now, looking me over with a poignantly focused expression on his face. “You know… after all that, I still can’t tell if you were the one who swam over me or not.”

I laugh. “At least it wasn’t a jump. That’s all that matters.”
 The sea beast thinks about this for a moment. “But… we just jumped together.”

Suddenly, Dr. Yono and me hear the distant sirens of police boats rocketing towards us across the waves. We pull one another close, ready to face justice together as the shark jumping authorities draw near. My heart is pounding hard in my chest, not yet emotionally prepared for my exile.

To our surprise, though, the police boats fly past as they continue on their way to something else entirely.

Dr. Yono and me exchange glances.

“Huh,” I say with a shrug. “I guess really nobody cares if we jumped the shark or not.”

“I care!” yells an angry drunken sailor from a nearby boat.

I roll my eyes.

“Maybe it’s not our time yet,” my ancient Megalodon lover suggests, thinking out loud for a moment.

Suddenly, his expression changes to one of excitement. “You wanna try hitting the jump again? I’ve got a few tricks I want to work on.”